


Letter to the Person I Treasure

by Lethalfurry



Series: Raz and Friends [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Furry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:45:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3795490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lethalfurry/pseuds/Lethalfurry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being without an adult doesn't mean that a child is helpless.<br/>After all, even children themselves can do much more than some adults.<br/>Being without anyone reminds you that you truly are helpless.<br/>Because you thought you could do so much more than any other.<br/>Erik thanks that one with words of humility and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letter to the Person I Treasure

**Author's Note:**

> This one took some minor editing...actually, to be fair, I didn't pay too much attention while editing because I thought it was sweet, LOL.  
> ...It is conceited to feel like that over your own works, isn't it...I feel like I have a bad personality...  
> EITHER WAY. Timeline-wise, at least after some works that I wrote after this, this is probably non-canon, but even so, it gives some information on how Erik came to acknowledge Raz. I personally found it very fulfilling, even though it isn't much. As children, they were probably very cute...though they still are! OCs are like your children, in a way! I have to be the kind of mother that always tells her kids that they're beautiful! LOL  
> Please enjoy!

Ever since I was young, it was commonplace to have him by my side.

After all, we were neighbors, and our parents were partners, working together whenever they could; most of the time, if one of them was back home, then that would mean the other two would be, too. It was only natural their children would also form a bond, especially when they were given their first similarity by their own parents:

The lack of parents.

Compared to him, I was a much more mature child; it was easy for me to understand problems in society, and I was never someone who threw tantrums and complained about hating their teachers, or something of the like. Yes, one could say that, even though I didn’t say it or acknowledge it, I probably saw this person—my best friend—as someone inferior to me.

Of course, he had his own peculiarities too; he was a quiet child among others, and would never interact much. He was a person lost in fantasy when it came to other people. Although I do not mean it as if he was always like that. But even so, his more vibrant side only came forward when he was with me, despite me not thinking much of that.

But of course, no matter how superior a child may feel to others, a child is still a child.

In one night of summer, during the break from school, I sat myself and decided to watch television. It was a rare activity for me to do by myself, as I only really turned it on when he was with me, so he could distract himself and I could study in peace.

Our parents were supposed to have gotten home already, as break had already started. In fact, they were supposed to arrive from the airport hours ago. So, obviously I thought: “Maybe something could have happened due to the weather”, which was what made me turn the television on and watch the news.

Once I saw the weather report, I realized it was probably because of the weather that they got held back. The other part of the country was covered in storms, and from the country they were in, they would have needed to make a stop by that part and take another plane. It wouldn’t be a surprise either if they couldn’t call because of that.

Part of me wanted to turn off the television after that, but then, what would I do? I didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day; I was hoping my parents would do something about that. So, I continued watching the news, hoping maybe something would pique my interest for a while, at least until it was late enough for me to feel sleepy.

–And then I saw it.

The news were covering something about the murders of children, all of them around my age range—some younger, some older, but in the end, all of them were ones that, if I saw in my class, I wouldn’t find weird. Some of them were completely dead, some half-dead, some only beaten, but the state of their bodies was disgusting. Maybe it was an exaggeration of mine; after all, I was a child. But to me, it looked like something that definitely should have been censored.

And so, for the first time in my life, possibly, I let out a scream.

It’s not as if this was the first time I had watched the news. I had watched them several times. But since this is a peaceful town, nothing more than boring information is ever given, and so, when something so brutal happens, it’s normal for it to get detailed so much.

And just like I wasn’t a stranger to the news, I was also not a stranger to the concept of murder. I always felt as if such things were easily understood by me, all those things that compose the darker side of society. But even so, a concept is a concept. To me, murder was simply the act of killing someone, and I could never imagine it happening in such a brutal way, much less to someone that was around my age.

Without thinking, I looked away from the screen, and I just sat there, shaking, trying to ignore that it was there. The voice of the news host was one that I paid attention to with every fiber of my being, examining every word they said diligently, counting the seconds that would take until the “thing” on the screen went away.

Shortly after, I heard the doorbell ring, and I thought, maybe, just maybe, my mother had come home, and surely, if anyone suspicious were to come here, she was an adult, she could fight them off, nothing would happen to me, of course… So I quickly picked myself up and ran to the door, not even bothering to think that the person on the other side of the door could be someone else. That kind of incredibly hopeful optimism.

When I opened it, only he was there, that Raz. His face looked confused and curious as he looked at me—and I didn’t know why he was there, as he was not my father. He was not an adult. So, there was absolutely no reason for him to be there.

“Hey, did something happen? I heard a really loud scream coming from here…” He said, his eyes focused on me, examining me. Even I myself could not believe that such a sound had come from me, but surely, he knew there was only me in the house. So, because of that, he looked at me with eyes that considered me an equal, someone capable of fear, just like him.

When I gave my situation a bit more thought, a burning sensation welled up inside my stomach, my feet got cold, and my hands were a bit sweaty. I quickly took Raz’s hand and brought him inside, slamming the door shut and locking it, as if I were making a sacred place only for the two of us.

“What’s up with you? Is it a bug or something?” He asked, looking very confused as I walked along with him back to my room. When I heard the news host again, I noticed that he was still speaking about those damned murders.

“It’s just…you can’t stay outside for long. A-and, you’re clumsy, so you’d probably forget to lock your door, and then the killer would get you, a-and…” I started speaking, and, by now, I was sure that I had to do something about this situation; after all, I was the superior here. So I thought I would explain the situation to him, and make sure he was safe. That was my duty.

But even though I was sure I was explaining everything calmly, what came out of my throat were only small sounds, and after those two sentences, I couldn’t form anymore coherent words. Then, I noticed Raz was looking at the television screen, right where those disgusting images were, unflinching, unaffected. “ _Poor thing,_ ” I thought, “ _He doesn’t even understand what happened there._ ” …until he looked back at me.

“Are you scared?” He spoke in a completely normal, maybe a bit gentle, tone. And yet, it sounded foreign to my ears. Me? Scared? Such a thing couldn’t possibly happen. And while in the insides of my mind I sounded so haughty and confident, I couldn’t do anything but look at him for a bit, my gaze going slightly down. Once he noticed nothing would come out of asking me that, he turned the television off.

“Those things aren’t scarier than me! Since I’m the strongest villain!” He said, completely confident, perplexing me even further. And it only got worse, as he was about to take me by the hand. When I realized what he was going to do, my eyes automatically closed, and I flinched; but he realized, and stopped. I felt as if I had really been saved there.

“Let’s sleep. And, then you’ll feel better!” He said, trying to put up as close to a “gentle smile” as he could pull off. I honestly thought it was just pitiful that he was trying to cheer me up with something like this; nothing guarantees that I would feel better after only getting sleep. Sleeping won’t change my situation. But even then, I felt comforted by those words.

He went and took out pajamas for both of us from the wardrobe, and then, after a few seconds of them being in front of me, he finally said something.

“Can you…look away?” was what he asked of me.

I thought there wasn’t any reason for him not to go to the bathroom or somewhere else to get changed, but the thought of him leaving me alone terrified me. I wanted him with me, I didn’t want him to leave me right now. So, I did what he asked of me, and only looked back when he said it was okay.

Despite my pajamas also being in his size, it looked a bit awkward on him; probably because of the size of his plumage. His feathers were incredibly messy, too. Once he was done, I took the ones he brought for me, and as I was about to force myself to say something, he spoke first.

“I’ll look away and keep watch. So just tell me when it’s fine to look again!” He said, blushing a bit, as he looked the other way. He looked silly, with those pajamas and rustled feathers, but his figure was one of strength to me. I felt safe. And so, after I was done, I managed to force my throat to produce a sound that barely seemed like “Done”.

“Then, come on, let’s go to sleep.” He said right after he turned, and waited for me to get on the bed. Right after I did, he got in. The bed was big enough for the both of us, as it was an adult-sized one; my mother didn’t want to waste money on buying an adult-sized one for me after I grew up, so she just got this one for me.

“If anyone tries to come for you, they’ll have to get past me. Since you’re my hostage!” He confidently said to me, when we were both on the bed. My side of the bed was facing the wall, while his side wasn’t; so, what he said was technically true. I managed to mutter a single “Thanks” for him, and I hoped that he heard it.

We left the lights turned on so that I wouldn’t feel scared; but even so, having the lights turned on itself reminds you that there is something to be scared about. So every sound that I heard was one that made me flinch, and Raz, who was so close to me, could feel it whenever I moved. And he quickly noticed my pattern of jumping at every little thing, and got off the bed.

For a minute, I thought he was mad. I thought that, because I was being such an irrational scaredy-cat, that he was going to leave me. That, for thinking that I was so superior, maybe this was my punishment.

Instead, he said something else.

“…If it’s bad, don’t make too much fun of it, alright?” He spoke, in an embarrassed tone. I could only wonder what he was going to do as he took a deep breath, but then I realized as the sounds came out of his mouth.

He started singing for me—A lullaby, perhaps. His voice was definitely one that I appreciated, and that I cherish even now. He was clumsy at it, and it was easy to hear a desperate attempt not to yawn during the song, but it was definitely something beautiful. I paid attention to it, but not like in the way I paid attention to the news host or to the sounds of the night; It was a song that brought me in. And just like that, I was asleep.

And not long after, I could feel something warm enveloping itself around my body, as if protecting me.

For the boy who I underestimated that day, I am sorry.

For the boy who changed my views and broadened my horizons, you are amazing.

For the boy who can act as my beloved support and back-up, I am grateful.

Thank you, Raz.


End file.
